


It's Clearly Not Cricket!

by unwillingadventurer



Category: Raffles (TV 1977), Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Crime and Cricket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 07:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15814518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwillingadventurer/pseuds/unwillingadventurer
Summary: Bunny encounters an old school-bully at a cricket event and Raffles has a scheme in mind.





	It's Clearly Not Cricket!

It was one of those scorching hot summers when Raffles agreed to play in one of his old friend’s cricket team against the villagers for a charity event. It wasn’t like Raffles to give up his time in such a way but Roger Addlington had been with him in the ‘eleven’ at the old school and once upon a time he and Raffles had been thick as thieves.

“I owe him a favour, Bunny, from the old days.”

“What for?” I asked. I remembered Raffles and Roger sneaking out on many an occasion and I admit I used to be rather envious.

“Oh, he was a good sport. He kept quite a fair few of my secrets that I will say.”

And I left it at that. Clearly, he wasn’t going to tell me these secrets between him and his old friend and I was to be kept in the dark as usual. All he would tell me is that he managed to invite me along, but I was to play for the villager’s side whilst he played for the house because the villagers had one player short.

“So, we can’t even be on the same team?” I felt disappointed. The thought of playing against Raffles seemed alien to me.

“I’m sorry old chap but it was the only way they’d let you come, and besides,” he said, linking his arm through mine with a beam in his eye that I would remember always, “you and I are always on the same team in other respects.”

After briefly succumbing to his charms, I folded my arms. “Seems awfully unfair to me. Your side has two cricketers from the old ‘eleven’ and my side is…well…. villagers.”

“Don’t underestimate the villagers, Bunny, they can be grade A stock.”

“Well they’ll be grade D stock with me playing, Raffles.”

“Nonsense, you’ve played well before, remember at Milchester, your catch is still remembered to this day?”

“I fell head over heels!”

“No finer sporting moment, my dear Rabbit,” he said as he piled all the cricket equipment into my hands, “besides you’ll get the luck to play with some real people for once, not the sorts we’re accustomed to.”

“I suppose.”

I will admit that despite my trepidation to the weekend of cricket, the grounds were beautiful and idyllic. The pond water sparkled under the sunlight and the gardens were as peaceful as could be with finely cut lawns and hedgerows made into elegant shapes. For a moment it reminded me of my old home in Sussex and I was lost in my own thoughts. 

It was with great relief when we discarded our luggage and took the opportunity to roam around that wonderful outside, arm in arm and taking in the wonderful sights. It quite startled Raffles however when without warning, I threw myself behind one of those elaborate garden hedges.

He crouched down beside me in the shrubbery. “Bunny, old sport, what may I ask are you doing?”

“Is he gone?” I said with a fearful whisper.

Raffles peered his head over the hedgerow and then bent back down. “Has…who…gone?”

I felt my hands clenching into balls. “That man, the only other gentleman in the vicinity, if you can even call him a gentleman.”

“He’s turned left by the fountain. Who is this chap that he makes you flee to the safety of your bunny warren?”

“The vilest of creatures. You may not remember him, A.J, he was in my form at the old school. You knew him for a time but when you left he made my life an utter misery.”

“He looks vaguely familiar.”

“Kip or rather Edgar Kipling. I used to call him Kipper.”

“Ah, yes, by Jove, that’s it, Kipper! You know he’s Roger’s second cousin, don’t you?”

“Well that’s just perfect.”

“What exactly did he do to you at the old school?”

What didn’t he do would have been more apt. The man tortured me. To him I was little more than weak vermin. I was un-athletic, quiet, sensitive and small. He saw this as despicable and a disgrace to the very nature of man. In reality his boorish bullying, his disregard for his fellow man made him to me the very disgrace to the nature of our entire species. 

I told Raffles as much as he managed to coax me from the depths and safety of the leaves and out into the glorious sunshine. I was still whispering about the cruelty Kipper inflicted on me when the devil himself caught sight of us from across the lawn and was waving at us in a limp circular motion. I think he believed he was a member of the royal family.

“Is that A.J Raffles I spy”? Kipper called. He hadn’t changed. His voice was still the plumiest in existence.

“It is indeed.” Raffles made his way toward him and I begrudgingly followed.

Raffles stuck out his hand and Kipper shook it. 

“Kipper isn’t it?” Raffles asked.

Kipper’s moustache twitched. “It’s Kip.”

“Ah yes, quite sorry, Kip,” he replied, shoving me forward, “you remember Harry Manders of course?”

“Who?” He looked at me, his nose high in the air as if I was the mud on his shoe. 

I glanced at Raffles and I could see he was gritting his teeth. His face remained neutral but I’d begun to recognise when something was truly bothering him. 

“You must remember Bunny Manders?” Raffles said.

Kipper took a concentrated look at me, stroking his moustache as if it had powers to reveal my identity. He then laughed. “Oh yes of course! Little Bunny Manders. I say, you have changed! You were a little tiny thing then, mass of blonde hair, freckles and bandy legs.”

I attempted to lunge forward but I felt Raffles’ hand tighten around my arm.

“We’ve all changed since the days of the old school,” Raffles said.

Kipper puffed his chest out. “Not quite so. You, Roger and I are keen cricketers. It was in our blood. We were winners then and remain winners still.”

“Whereas I was destined to fail?” I blurted out with a sharp tongue. 

“The weak ones never succeed,” Kipper continued, “it’s a survival of the fittest in this world, my dear little chap.”

Raffles laughed. “Indeed. To survive one must outwit the enemy.”

“Without needing to trample over everyone else to do so,” I whispered.

Raffles nudged me, whispering in my ear. “Not now, Bunny, stay calm.

He had a great ability to stay cool no matter how much he was angry. Of course, Raffles had not been bullied mercilessly throughout his formative years and one wonders whether he could be as confident, as charming, as composed, if he had suffered in the way I had done in my isolated youth.

…

“How you could just stand there and exchange pleasantries with that brute I’ll never know,” I said, pacing my room in the grand house. 

Raffles held me still by my shoulders. “My dear Rabbit, you must know me well by now. I’m as vengeful as you are. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face just as much as you. I, however am cooking up quite a plan. But first things first, we have a cricket match to play.

…

The game of cricket was not close enough. It was the next day on the Saturday and I was not in the mood for sport only for revenge. The villagers who were to be my kit and kin for the remainder of the day were pleasant fellows- many of them were over thirty and worked in local shops or offices. There were also several younger chaps who were manual labourers including one called Charlie who had the most wonderful head of sunshine yellow hair I think I’d ever seen.

When it was my turn to step up to bat, I was extremely nervous because I knew I was to face my friend A.J Raffles, one of the best slow bowlers of the century. I’d never faced Raffles before and my knees were shaking. I knew he would never go easy on me when his reputation was at stake but now here he was, his blue glistening eyes staring into mine, his bare forearms tanning in the midday sun, his strong hands ready, his fingers tightening around the cricket ball. 

He rubbed the ball against his trouser leg and then looked at me again, our eyes locking for a moment as if we were cowboys in the American West. My hands were sweating furiously under my gloves and I waited. Raffles finally released the ball and bowled over the wicket. The ball came down at such speed I could barely see it as it hit the ground and took a wild spin to the left. I attempted a swipe but my bat couldn’t make contact. The wicket keeper caught the ball instead and he was already throwing it back to Raffles before I’d even had a chance to think. My hands gripped tighter around the bat as Raffles made a slow run-up, twisting the ball in his hands for extra spin. The ball hit the ground again and spun to the side of me. Once more I aimed my bat but I could not seem to hit it. The ball instead, much to my dismay, struck the middle stump and was out for a duck. The rotten luck! But then who was I to even think about batting so well against the mighty hand of A.J Raffles?

I was rather relieved when the day’s cricket came to an end.

…

I accompanied Raffles as he got ready for dinner that evening and at first barely a word was uttered between us. I was still excessively angered by the appearance of Kipper, and Raffles was still in sociable mode, starry-eyed and beaming from the assess of adulation he received after his top-class cricket performance. Men congratulated him, ladies flocked around him- even children were circling his feet.

The one upside to this for me was that fleeting look of jealousy on Kipper’s face at the praise Raffles received. It was not enough to ease my mind but just enough to keep me sane.

“Bunny, you’re in quite a reflective mood. You’re not upset at me not going easy at you during the cricket, are you?”

“Of course not, A.J. That was your public duty and its for charity, no its this blasted business with Kipper.”

Raffles struggled with his collar and so I assisted immediately. “I told you, Bunny, I have it in hand. A ghastly man such as he needs to be taught a lesson and what’s more did you see his game? He had the audacity to compare us, that cricket was in our blood. The only thing in his blood is wickedness.”

“And he seems to think he could play for England!”

“What a horrid thought!”

“What are you going to do?” A small part of me would’ve loved for him to say that violence was the answer and I knew it was terrible to have such feelings- I am civilised after all, and yet a tiny part of me wanted to see him hurting the way he hurt me all those years ago.

“My dear old Rabbit, what else but crime,” came the confirmation.

“Stealing?”

“We take something of Kipper’s, something he’ll miss, something of real value to him.”

“Jewellery? A Watch?”

“No, Bunny, he’s far richer than you and I. No, it needs to be something of personal value, perhaps sentimental.”

I was stumped- no pun intended. I could honestly not think of Kipper having treasured possessions- heirlooms that were worth more than pounds, shillings and pence. He was the sort of man who would sell his own mother if he’d thought he’d get a good price. I was still pondering the matter when Raffles handed me a glass of scotch whiskey. I gulped it down hastily and suddenly his eyes were alight with excitement and he was pacing to-and-fro in that way he did when he had his mind set on crime. 

“By George, I’ve got it, Bunny!”

For once I was almost as enthusiastic as he was and I approached him. He placed his arm around my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

“His cricket ball, Bunny.”

We were now in front of the mirror, standing together, side by side. Raffles had never looked so magnificent. 

I was perplexed by his admission to steal something as ordinary as a cricket ball and I told him so.

“Ah yes but only old Kipper has a ball that was struck by the almighty bat of the beloved W.G Grace.”

“Kipper owns such a ball?”

“He does. Roger told me the devil does nothing but brag of the thing. And anyway, it was only W.G Grace, not the Prince of Wales but alas to him it is the holy grail.”

I smirked. “Do I detect the tiniest element of envy there, A.J?”

“None at all my dear fellow, its simply the sheer absurdity of his boasting as though he were anointed by God for owning such a thing. W.G Grace is a mere mortal like the rest of us.”

“Whatever you say, Raffles.”

 

…

I sat on the opposite side of the dinner table from Raffles that evening and found it difficult not to gaze upon him as he engaged a pretty lady in conversation. His face was half-lit by a candle glowing beside him and the image seemed to describe Raffles perfectly. The light and dashing side in full view, beautiful and for all the world to see, and then the other side- cast in shadow, the obscured side, the dark, the hidden, the side only I had become silent witness to. And yet looking upon him I realised that both sides excited me in equal measure and for all intents and purposes one side did not exist without the other.

I kept one eye on Raffles during the dinner and one eye on Kipper, much to I think, the dismay of the lady to my left who had the misfortune of being my dining companion when I was clearly so preoccupied with the doings of A.J Raffles and Edgar Kipling.

“I hear you’re in attendance with Mr. Raffles,” she said and I momentarily looked away from my friends and glanced at the lady.

“Oh yes, I am, and I do beg your pardon, but I didn’t quite catch your name?”

“Lady Eleanor Westerfield.”

“Oh yes of course, married to the General? How do you do?”

“Very well…Mr. Manders isn’t it?”

Kipper caught my attention at this precise moment as he was boorishly looking at the poor young girl next to him who was having none of his advances and his slimy wandering hands. Raffles, I noticed was watching Kipper and I could see he was less than impressed by such un-gentleman-like behaviour. 

“I said, you’re Mr. Manders are you not?”

Lady Westerfield was growing impatient with my total disregard for our conversation so I ceased spying on the other guests and paid full attention to her instead. We spoke about trivial things- the weather, the cricket scores, the gardens, and in truth I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could be alone with Raffles.

…

The wait was agonising but when at last dinner was over, I found Raffles heading outside so I picked up my pace to reach him as he made his way across the lawn.

“Raffles!”

“Ah Bunny, thought you’d already gone up.”

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve been around a bit in the house, and fancied some air.” He took a sniff of the air and motioned for me to join him in his walk. He made sure no-one was listening and leaned in close. “I took a quick look around the house. You know Kipper’s room is next to yours?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Bunny, use your brain, I know you have one. His room is located next to yours which means I can climb in by simply crossing from the ledge outside your room to his and steal the ball.”

“You mean the ball that was struck by W.G Grace?”

“And what a fall from grace Kipper will have when he realises the thing is missing!”

“When?”

“Well when he’s out seems a sensible idea.” He grinned and I knew it was all a game to him. Was he defending my honour or was he simply enamoured by the idea of his latest criminal escapade? “I shall do it tomorrow just before the cricket.”

“But Raffles why can’t you just enter into his room instead of climbing next door?” I asked.

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides he locks it. Full of secrets that chap. It’d be a blasted nuisance trying to get in in that amount of time without servants noticing. This way I have your key and can slip in and out unnoticed.”

“But what if someone spots you?”

“My dear Bunny, your window lies on the north side of the house. The windows cannot be seen from the cricket pitch. Whilst everyone sets up for the game, I’ll nip in, do my bit and then hide the ball.”

I wasn’t usually so readily in agreement with Raffles about how the crime should be committed and it was rather a peculiar feeling to find myself so willing to steal from an old schoolfellow. I put the thoughts to the back of my mind for the next few hours and Raffles and I lay upon the grass in the garden, jackets off, shirt sleeves rolled up, gazing at the stars at midnight as though we were two giddy schoolboys enjoying our youth together. 

Raffles rolled over and looked at me inquisitively. “Was it so very bad, Bunny?” he asked, his eyes looking away the moment I returned the glance.

“Was what bad?”

“The bullying from old Kipper? Some boys had it very rough at the school. I know how hard it can be for some and it pains me that you should have taken the brunt of Kipper’s torture. I suppose it was a blessing you weren’t his fag.”

“Too true. I only cared to fag for you!”

He laughed. “You always were a loyal and dedicated little rabbit, weren’t you?”

“Because I had the kindest master.”

There was a look from him then that found my heart and stayed forever, locked inside, like writing in a secret journal. 

How quickly the romantic emotion I felt transformed to anxiety and I was uncertain whether the excess sweat on my forehead was a result of shyness, nerves or the humid night-time. Either way a night of restless sleep almost certainly followed. 

…

The next morning came quickly and the second day of cricket was due to commence. The anxiety swept over me again as the players congregated on the pitch ready to begin, except Raffles who was fashionably late. I of course knew what he was really up to and my fear was that someone was going to check.

I offered to fetch Raffles. Many eyes were upon me as I left with an awkward smile and I began to walk quickly away from the crowd. I felt a hand on my shoulder then, and I spun around to see Charlie with the sunshine blonde hair smiling at me as his hair danced in the sprightly breeze.

“Alright mate, tell your pal its alright if he’s scared to come down. We’ll go easy on him!” he laughed.

I laughed too. “I’m sure he’s just detained by something quite trivial.”

“Are you alright? You look a little pale. Something not agreed with you?”

“No, I’m quite alright Charlie. You needn’t worry, go back to the others and I’ll fetch the missing piece of the puzzle.”

As I turned the corner of the building, I caught sight of Raffles descending from above, abseiling the wall, dressed in white like an angel of crime. 

As he reached the ground, he clocked me and smiled. “Ah, there you are, my dear chap.” He casually dusted himself off and threw me the cricket ball he’d stolen from Kipper’s room. “Hide this for a moment, won’t you? I’ll collect it after the match.”

He sauntered past and I heard a cheer as he emerged to greet his admiring fans. I too, needed to get back to the match but where would I hide the ball? Behind the house there was a tree which had a branch that looked like a good place to start. I reached up and placed the ball in a little alcove that was formed by some interlocking branches and I nestled it there, covering it with some leaves, and hoping to god that no human nor animal saw me or uncovered it there.

…

My mind was not on cricket after that. I was even more angered by Kipper’s extraordinary good luck and as expected my village team stood no chance at overall victory. We lost spectacularly in fact and I was forced to listen to villainous gloating from Kipling as I walked past.

Raffles seemed to take it in his stride and asked me afterwards where I hid the ball. I was about to tell him when he covered my mouth with his hand. “On second thought,” he said, “no need. We’ll just leave it where it is. He’ll have quite a panic when he can’t find it. Our job here is done.”

And so, we waited for Kipper to realise that the ball was missing and sure enough that very evening after changing for dinner, the bully received his just desserts and he made quite a spectacle of himself as he announced to an entire room that his beloved ball was missing and that one of us must have stolen it, accusing everyone of jealousy. I was doing my best not to smile with satisfaction and after a thorough search of the house and our belongings, I wondered whether a search would be extended to the exterior of the house. Thankfully it was not and Kipper could go on wondering where he misplaced his own treasured possession. 

Despite this blow to Kipper, I still didn’t feel any better and felt instead that he’d walk away simply without a trinket and I would still have the deep memories and scars of the names he’d called me during the bullying of my youth. 

…

As we were ready to leave the next morning, bound for the train station, Raffles and I spied Kipper in the front garden next to the footman who was gathering his cases, and the brute was yelling at the poor servant. Raffles brushed past him and tipped his hat. 

“Good day, and goodbye,” Raffles said jauntily.

Kipper finally smiled. “Ah, are you off, Mr. Raffles? It’s been a pleasure to play alongside you.”

Raffles looked at me for a brief moment. “Quite. Ready Bunny?”

I nodded and managed a fleeting phoney smile at Kipper before I started to walk away. As I walked past he laughed mockingly at me and I felt my face redden.

“Goodbye Mr. Manders. Scurrying back to your little rabbit warren to keep safe, are we? It’s not your fault I suppose that you’re forever a loser, but we can’t all be winners eh?”

His laughter cut through me like a knife but I resisted the urge to do anything, after all, we’d stolen the ball, we’d momentarily defeated him. Raffles could remain cool and so could I.

It was to my utmost surprise and bewilderment then when the oh so calm and cool Raffles suddenly punched old Kipper square on the jaw, knocking him to the ground with one blow. I stood, dumbfounded, too shocked to speak.

“Come on, Bunny, we’ve got a train to catch.”

 

…

I’d never been more relieved when we returned to the Albany and we climbed the stairs two at a time up to Raffles’ rooms. I had not broached the subject of his actions and on the train home we instead had slept off our tiredness and not spoken a word. The first words I spoke were when I entered his room and headed straight to the decanter. 

I poured him a glass of his own whiskey. “Well…”

He looked at me as if he had no idea what I was getting at. “Well what, Bunny?”

“Are you going to tell me what that was back there? You punched Kipper!”

He took the whiskey from my hand and gulped it down hastily, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh that, well yes, couldn’t help myself. I know it’s not usually my style but sometimes drastic times call for drastic measures.”

I smiled giddily. “You were defending my honour, A.J!”

He glanced at me and his expression remained somewhat unreadable. “Ah well yes, I suppose I was. We couldn’t have that ghastly fellow calling you names. It was deplorable behaviour, old boy, un-sportsman-like, un-gentleman-like and clearly not…well…cricket!”

I raised my tumbler into the air. “Well I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“Always my dear Rabbit, always.”


End file.
